Hues of Red
by Beta Gyre
Summary: Rapunzel has never broken a promise in her life, and this is a major one to break, but she's had anger toward Eugene simmering for a long time, and the spirited visitor from Scotland makes her feel happy. Rapunzel/Merida, Rapunzel/Eugene. Dark.


**Disclaimer**: _Tangled _and _Brave _both belong to Disney. I just dirty them.

**Author's Note**: Though I definitely consider this story AU, the canonical events of both movies can be assumed to have occurred, except that here, _Brave _was moved forward 600-700 years (or more) so it occurred in the _Tangled_ era. That means that Merida wouldn't be a princess, but a Scottish noblewoman, as she is depicted here.

Now, to be honest, I'm not sure that the crossover section is truly the best place for this. Merida's function in the story is more of a means to an end. The real underlying focus of this is not the relationship between her and Rapunzel. However, she _is _a major character in this, and I think it's a major enough role to qualify this as a crossover.

**Warnings**: Well, you've already read the summary if you're here. Still, I'll reiterate the warnings. It is not cute or fluffy. It contains marital problems, emotional and arguably physical abuse, and infidelity. While no particular scene is very graphic, I've rated it M because I think the sum total does deserve that rating.

* * *

**Hues of Red**

* * *

_**Bruised Wrist**_

"Are you coming or not?"

Impatience and irritation seethed from Eugene's voice, and Rapunzel snapped her head up from her toilette at the sound. "Yes," she said quickly, dabbing a bit of powder on her face. "I'm so sorry. I'm ready now."

She drew away from her dresser and scurried toward him, casting her eyes down meekly before his glare. He reached out an arm, grabbed her wrist roughly, and jerked her forward, causing a sharp pain to shoot down her arm from her shoulder, and practically dragging her out of the room. She winced. His fingers were gripping her wrist so tightly that they would probably leave a bruise, and if that yank hadn't pulled a muscle in her shoulder, she would be astonished.

_Why am I apologizing to him? More importantly, why am I letting him jerk me around and hurt me?_ a voice inside her head protested as she began to head down to the formal parlor. But she knew the answer. After eighteen years of bowing before a bully who had convinced her that she _loved _her, Rapunzel quickly fell back into that pattern. It was familiar. Comfortable, in a way. And it had snuck up on her, because Eugene had not _been _a bully at first. He never made demands of her or ordered her around. He was considerate of her feelings. He certainly never hurt her with any of his touches.

The change had come shortly after he became _Prince _Eugene. It was not immediate, but within about a week of their wedding, he began to strut about the castle not merely with the charming, harmless arrogance that she found so intoxicating. No, it was something different—something deeper and more threatening. No longer did he bury a grimace and crack a joke if a dish from the kitchen came out badly. Instead he would sneer at it and order it removed from the dinner table, with a veiled threat lurking beneath the demand. And no longer did he make any attempt to defer to Rapunzel even on matters that were her domain as the heiress of the kingdom. He injected his opinion in _everything,_ and with an authoritative, domineering tone that made her instinctively cower and defer, just as she had done for eighteen years of her life. He had given her freedom—and then he had stolen it away.

Thief that he was, he had even managed to steal her parents. That too had started off innocuously enough, of course. She had been shy and uncertain around them, having grown up calling someone else "Mother" and being unsure how to fit these new royal parents into her life. Meanwhile, he had been determined to win them over, to do away with any lingering bad impressions they had of him from his Flynn Rider days, and he had been the charming extrovert of the pair. As a result, they warmed up to him quickly, and that relationship became familiar and casual, while their relationship with her remained awkward, stilted, and somewhat distant. The extent of the co-opting became crystal clear to her the night that the Duke of Brunner was dining with them as a visiting foreign dignitary and he asked the King "how his son had managed to find such a lovely and demure young lady."

Still, even that humiliation need not have been _Rapunzel's_. It should have belonged to the duke himself, with Eugene as a close second. To be sure, the guest _was _properly embarrassed when his mistake was explained, but Eugene displayed no trace of discomfiture at being incorrectly deemed the future ruler. If anything, he looked vaguely miffed at having the mistake corrected at all, though Rapunzel was the only one to notice this. However, after the duke had left, the family held a discussion about the incident in their sitting room to discuss how such a mistake could have been made. The King and Queen were deeply disturbed about the fact that Rapunzel clearly did not display the strength and confidence that a future queen would need to rule, but they were blind to the domineering attitude that the prince consort had adopted. No, it was somehow all Rapunzel's fault. She hadn't been _acting _like a future ruler, so of course the guest had mistaken her. The discussion quickly turned into a three-party scolding session directed at her. She was grieved at being scolded by her parents, but what _really _angered her was that Eugene had the nerve to fuss at her for being too diffident when he was constantly overshadowing her and bossing her around.

Rapunzel's thoughts turned back to the present as her husband hauled her down the hallway. Another damn visitor had arrived, another guest that Eugene would wow at her expense. She was pretty sure he did it on purpose on some level. _Maybe it's because he's so used to being on top in every way that he wouldn't know how to handle it if I asserted myself, so he tries to keep me cowed,_ she thought mutinously.

Eugene somehow managed to tighten his grip on her already sore wrist even more. Rapunzel was sure this would leave her wrist bruised bright red when he finally let her go, not that the long sleeves of her gown would show the evidence of his roughness. It was really too warm for these sleeves, but there was already a pair of old bruises on her arms where he had gripped her too hard in bed. He had a tendency to do _that _too, what with his greedy lustful eagerness and, lately, his increasing desire to sire children and thereby (she guessed) make sure no one in the kingdom had _any _doubt that _he _got to bed the princess.

Rapunzel's racing thoughts quickly departed from their bedchamber at the realization that her hand was growing numb, and Eugene was striding down the hallway as if running a race. They were fast approaching the formal parlor where they would wait for their guest to be announced. Was he going to drag her into the parlor as if she were an uncooperative dog?

"Would you _wait_ a second?" she finally gasped, half out of breath.

He stopped in the hallway and turned around to look at her with impatience as she collected herself. She breathed deeply and smoothed out the loose tendrils of her hair that had come undone in the rush down the hallway. When she was calm, she turned to him, trying not to bite off her words as she spoke.

"I'm ready now," she said. "We need to walk in like civilized people, though—me on your arm properly, not you dragging me in behind you like a sack of potatoes." She tried to plaster a smile on her face to cover up the real irritation that she felt and make Eugene think it was a joke.

He gave her a skeptical, studying look, clearly trying to figure out whether she meant anything by it, but gave up. He sighed and held out his arm to her. She took it, took a deep breath, and as he opened the door to the parlor, tried to compose herself.

* * *

_**Ruddy Hair**_

Unlike most of the foreign dignitaries who came to Corona, this guest was not on a diplomatic trip to shore up political relations with the little island kingdom. She was not even a head of state or future one. Her name was Merida Ferguson, eldest child of the Viscount of Dun'Broch in Scotland, and she was making a tour of Europe for her education.

And, to Rapunzel's pleasant surprise, she was only three years younger than herself. Rapunzel had been expecting an older woman, perhaps a widow.

Rapunzel had also been expecting a snobby, stuffy noblewoman with little interest in anything that she herself might care about. After about ten minutes of conversation, that assumption was also proven false. Merida was a tomboy, a free-spirited young woman who wore her gloriously curly mane of red hair down her back instead of tied up. Rapunzel rather envied her that hair; she was glad that hers was not 70 feet long anymore, but its rate of growth since Eugene had cut it had been startlingly slow. That hadn't been a _huge _surprise, given that the single brown lock she'd had for so long had grown so very slowly, but it was still disappointing and hard to get used to. Now, three years after the tower, her brown locks fell two inches above her shoulders.

Merida was also an outdoor person. Equestrian, naturalist, expert archer—she had a joy for life and the freedom to express it as she loved. As Rapunzel and her family got to know their new guest, Rapunzel already felt herself becoming happier just by being in the young woman's presence.

"How long are you going to be here?" she found herself asking Merida eagerly, well after her parents had departed the parlor to attend to financial business for the kingdom and left her and Eugene with their visitor.

"I'm expected at the principality of Wasservald in a week," Merida said.

This information was disappointing to Rapunzel. She knew that the young noblewoman would have to leave, but she hadn't wanted it to be this soon.

Eugene, on the other hand, looked relieved. Ever since the king and queen had left the room, he had been sitting in a chair with a sour expression on his face. His usual formula of being Prince Charming for female guests had completely failed. Merida was utterly unresponsive to his act. To her, it was almost as if he wasn't there at all. Her attention was focused on Rapunzel.

"Well," Eugene finally said, standing up, "I think I had best leave the two of you to your conversation, since you're getting on so well. Good night, Rapunzel. It's been a _pleasure_ to meet you, Miss Ferguson." Trying visibly to put on a happy face and affect a charming persona, he took his leave and left the room.

They talked long into the evening. When at last they agreed it was time to go to bed, Rapunzel showed Merida to her quarters and then headed off to her own. When she opened the door to their bedchamber, she noticed to her surprise that Eugene was fast asleep.

* * *

_**Flushed Cheeks**_

The next day, Rapunzel found their guest—and, she thought, her new friend—as soon as she could. It wasn't that she wanted to avoid her husband, exactly, but she was enjoying Merida's company more than she had enjoyed anything in a long time. _Besides,_ she told herself as she got ready for a first archery lesson with her visitor, _I haven't ever really had a female friend. That isn't normal for a woman, and I think that's really what I've been missing all along. I've probably just been expecting Eugene to be everything for me, and it's too much pressure. People need different kinds of relationships in their lives._ This kind of reasoning soothed her and almost made her forget the way that Eugene had been treating her for the past two and a half years.

They spent the whole day outdoors. Rapunzel was a pretty skillful archer herself, it turned out, though Merida could still shoot an arrow so precisely that it sliced right through hers. Rapunzel was amazed; she had no idea that was even _possible._

Merida had been raised in a wild, open country, and the groomed, graceful little island kingdom was not quite to her taste. It was a bit too cultivated. But she was still able to enjoy herself. There were activities in the kingdom, bustling shops, plenty of sports, and excellent weather.

Rapunzel decided to suggest taking Maximus for a ride. There _were _wild forests on the mainland, and Rapunzel remembered that she used to go riding there all the time with Eugene, during the first months that they lived here... before everything went sour. She hadn't been out riding on the mainland more than a couple of times since then, because he hadn't been able to go with her and he would not let her go by herself. It was kind of sad to remember now, but Rapunzel told herself to get over it. A horseback ride through the forests would be a good thing to do, and after all, she _wouldn't_ be by herself. She would be with an armed woman whose archery skills made it plain that she was perfectly capable of defending herself and others.

"I would _love _to ride your horse," Merida exclaimed as Rapunzel told her about the role that Maximus had played in her escape from the tower. She had already been delighted with Pascal and his ability to change color at will, and she had, by now, heard Rapunzel's backstory.

Rapunzel had not heard quite as much about Merida's past, but she had heard just enough oblique references and dark allusions that she could deduce that a few years ago, there had been unpleasantness between Merida and her mother, and that witchcraft had been involved in some way. _That _was certainly familiar enough, Rapunzel thought wryly. However, unlike her own story, Merida's mysterious backstory apparently involved her real mother, and the dispute had ended happily for both of them. Merida and the Lady Dun'Broch were on excellent terms now, it seemed, and the problem—whatever it was—had ultimately ended up strengthening their relationship. Rapunzel couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at _that._ However, this was all conjecture from bits and pieces. Merida didn't seem to want to say too much about the subject; she became vaguely ashamed whenever she accidentally alluded to it or another subject brought it forward.

When the two young women had at last ridden Maximus deep into the woods, far from civilization, they decided to take a much-earned rest by a small pool. They dismounted the horse giggling and flustered from the wind. Merida's hair, however, was so wild by nature that it was impossible for Rapunzel to see any difference in it. She was not sure the same could be said about her own.

"Look at you!" Merida exclaimed though laughter. She gestured to the surface of the water. "Look at your reflection!"

Rapunzel peered over the bank at herself and almost gasped out loud. Her face was bright red, a consequence of windburn and exercise. But then she looked at Merida and broke into a smirk.

"You're no better," she said. "You look _all _red now!"

Merida gazed at her reflection and smiled in satisfaction. She smoothed the back of her hair. "And a fine color it is too," she declared, sitting down on the ground.

Rapunzel chuckled as she sat down next to her. It was so nice to be out in the free open air again, and she told her companion so.

Merida looked concerned. "Do you have to stay in the castle all the time?"

Rapunzel bit her lip. "No... I mean, of course, sometimes I have things that I do have to work on, but sometimes it's just..." She trailed off, unsure of what to say. "Eugene and I used to come out here all the time. I miss it."

"Why, do you not do it anymore?"

She shook her head. "He doesn't, and he doesn't want me to go out here by myself, so I guess I _do _have to stay in the castle more than I'd like."

Merida looked deeply troubled now. "Forgive me if this is inappropriate," she said hesitantly, "but... did your parents make you marry him?"

Rapunzel glanced sharply at her companion. "What makes you think that?" she asked.

Merida glanced sideways at Rapunzel. "You don't seem very happy with him."

Rapunzel's gaze shifted to the grass. "I..." She bit her lip. "I guess I'm not, anymore. He's different from what he used to be. But my parents didn't _make _us marry," she added defensively. "They just... immediately, as soon as we arrived, formed a secret agreement with him that he would court me, and constantly pushed for us to spend time together, and... wanted a wedding within six months," she ended in a sheepish mumble.

Merida sighed. "In other words, they basically did. I'm so sorry."

Rapunzel reflected on her memories of their courtship and the events leading up to their wedding. She couldn't help but admit that there was some truth to Merida's charge. She _had _been pressured into marrying Eugene pretty quickly. Some of the pressure had come from her parents and some from him. But she still couldn't blame it all on others. If she hadn't wanted it herself, all that pressure would have been futile. Even when she had lived with Mother Gothel and believed with all her heart that that woman loved her, she had been strong-willed enough to defy her order to never leave the tower. It took physical violence and a direct, immediate threat to Eugene's life to make Rapunzel give up something she wanted. Mere emotional pressure, even from people who cared for her, could not persuade her to do something major with her life that she didn't want to do, and she knew it. She had wanted to marry him, and it was her own choice. She just hadn't expected a happy choice to turn into a cage of resentment and anger.

"I was in love with him," Rapunzel finally said. "If I hadn't been, or if I didn't want it myself, it wouldn't have made any difference what they wanted. I loved him."

Merida squinted at her companion. "You say that as if you don't anymore."

Rapunzel blinked. "Of course I do," she said defensively, automatically. She turned to Merida. "Why are you asking me things like this?"

Merida gave Rapunzel a long, deep look. "Because that is what my mother almost did to me," she said in a low voice. "She wanted to force me into a marriage."

Rapunzel was stunned. "You mean that's what you've been alluding to all this time?"

Merida nodded. "We worked it out because we listened to each other in the end."

Rapunzel felt bitterness seep over her immediately. "Eugene doesn't listen to me anymore," she said acidly. "He thinks he knows everything. He... people who don't know any better, or who haven't paid attention, mistake _him _for the actual heir, the child of my parents, because he..." She trailed off, suddenly self-conscious about the burst of anger that she had displayed.

But Merida had already mentally completed the thought. "Because he acts like he is?" she said shrewdly.

Rapunzel nodded. "It makes me so angry sometimes, but I don't know what to do. I don't know how I'll ever be a ruling queen. On paper, yes, but it's just... I'm sure he'll be bossing me even then and running things behind the scenes. They don't seem to think that anything is wrong with how he acts toward me—"

"Most people wouldn't," Merida said, sounding worldly-wise and cynical. "That is what marriage is for almost everyone. You grew up in a strange way, no offense. Isolated from the world. That's why it seems wrong to you."

"Well, that means I can't expect them to help, and he doesn't listen to me," Rapunzel said bitterly. "I want to do something to just stun him, to shock him into paying attention, but I don't know what."

Merida studied Rapunzel for a minute, looking compassionately at her. Finally she spoke. "Maybe you just need another person to... befriend." She reached over and took Rapunzel's hand, then gave her a sly smile.

Rapunzel hardly knew what to think, but her heart was racing and her brain was churning with ideas.

* * *

_**Dead Flowers**_

That evening, Eugene confronted Rapunzel as soon as she retired to their bedchamber.

"What were you doing all day?" he asked.

She raised an eyebrow and looked evenly at him. "Being a good hostess. Showing our guest things in the kingdom. Taking her for a ride on Maximus into the forest. Making—"

"Wait," Eugene interrupted. He walked over to where she sat on the bed and placed a hand on her shoulder as he gazed down at her. "You took her into those woods by yourself?"

"She had her bow, and she's a better shot than anyone in the Royal Guard by far. She's a better shot than you are," Rapunzel said spitefully.

He glared. "That's not the point! If something had happened to her in there, it would have been a diplomatic disaster for this kingdom. She's the daughter of a nobleman, Rapunzel. There would have been questions from Scotland... probably even questions from England, because it looks like they're going to unite formally with England very soon. We're a _nothing _kingdom in the grand scheme of things, and if we make enemies with the British Empire, Rapunzel, do you know what will happen?" He was very agitated.

"No, I guess I'm stupid," she said sarcastically. She was _so _tired of being talked down to like this. "You want to lecture me, so why don't you just suppose I'm an idiot and continue with it?"

Eugene stared angrily at her. "Oh, please. You're not stupid and you know it. But honestly, Rapunzel, it's been three years since you left that tower... don't you think that by now, these things ought to start at least _occurring_ to you since you're going to be the ruler of this place someday?"

"I wasn't thinking about Merida getting shot at or kidnapped by ruffians or eaten by a bear, because _I _thought that after three years, it was good that I _didn't _see everything as a danger anymore!" Rapunzel exclaimed. "I was making friends with her, so excuse me if I wasn't thinking about all the various ways she could potentially die in the woods!" She glared at her husband. "And if it was that big of a risk, why weren't you concerned about _me?"_

"Well, it wasn't likely anything would have happened," Eugene admitted, deflating at this question. "But it's just—God, Rapunzel, I've asked you not to go out there without me. And then when you do anyway, it's just..."

Rapunzel felt as if she had been slapped. So _that _was it? He was just angry that she had _disobeyed _him, was he?

He shook his head as if to clear it and took several deep breaths to calm down. Turning away from her, obviously looking for something else to temporarily occupy himself, he glanced around the bedroom until his eyes fixed upon a vase of wilted red roses that sat on the dresser. He had given the flowers to her recently, but their blooming time was at an end. Indeed, petals had fallen off most of the roses and lay on the wood surface, dry, brown, and shriveled. Eugene walked over to the dresser, picked up the vase, and carried it into their adjoining bathroom. When he emerged, the vase was empty. He set it back down on the dresser.

At last he spoke again. "You misunderstood what I wanted, that's all... since she was with you. But don't go out there again without me, please." His tone of voice made it clear that he had no doubt that she would do as he said.

She realized that there was nothing to be gained by dragging out this argument. "All right," she said in a small voice.

He smiled and bent down to give her a kiss, which left her with very mixed feelings. She was really angry with him, no matter how well she hid that fact from him, and it was an anger that had been simmering to a slow boil for a long time. It irritated her that he would bestow affection upon her without even asking, as if he thought himself entitled to do so no matter what the circumstances. But then... they were married, so he arguably had a right to think that, and even in the bubbling cauldron of hostility that she was brewing up, she didn't think it was unpleasant at all. In fact, she enjoyed it, if she were completely honest with herself. She still responded to his amorous gestures, and no matter how justifiably angry she was at him, a kiss, a hug, or a touch from him could still cool that anger, even if only by a little.

Encouraged, he sat down on the mattress next to her, wrapped his arms around her, and continued with his activities. Part of her wanted to tell him to stop, but the other part liked it and wanted him to continue. When he kissed, touched, and made love to her, then for that brief time she could forget how angry and sad she was about what their marriage had become.

Afterward, when they were both too tired for anything but going to sleep, she turned on her side and focused on Eugene's sleeping form. The brief period of euphoria was gone, and in its wake were feelings of shame and self-loathing. There was no getting around the fact that she enjoyed this, but she still hated the fact that she _could _enjoy it despite how much he tried to control her and put himself forward in her place. No, not "could"—it was more like _"had no choice."_ She was helpless in the face of her physical desire for him, and what used to be a source of untainted delight was now tainted. But she was still his; their shared rooms, framed official documents, matching rings, matching titles, and exclusive intimacy all demonstrated that. She couldn't do anything about any of that now—well, except the last.

But that wouldn't be right. She had made that a promise to him, before scores of witnesses. And she never broke her promises. Besides, the thought of doing the kinds of things she had just done with any other man was repulsive to her.

Still...

Rapunzel thought back to her outing today with Merida. They had even held hands. A slight heat rose in her cheeks at the memory. She smirked to herself as she lay on the pillow, grateful for the privacy of the dark, because she could only imagine Eugene's outrage if he had been told _that _detail, as possessive as he was. She knew that there were different kinds of hand-holding, and that child friends, or a parent and child, held hands to signify something quite different from what an adult pair would mean by it. Rapunzel could not describe it in words, but something about it—the way she made the gesture, the pattern of pressure, the soft little stroke of her thumb after she had Rapunzel's hand in her own, and especially the sly, secretive look in her eyes—made it essentially identical to the way that Eugene held her hand.

Rapunzel seemed to have more in common with Merida in some ways than she had ever had with him, but there was more to it than that. She had been thinking all afternoon that she would like to run her fingers through that red mane, and not just because she admired it or was curious about how it felt, but because she thought it would be pleasurable for them both if she did it. And she couldn't ignore the fact that her hand had tingled for hours with the memory of the hand-holding, just exactly what happened when Eugene touched her. There must be something to this.

What was she to make of that? The sensations were the same, but were the implications? And if they were, was that cheating? She couldn't figure out how it could be, since she knew that she couldn't be intimate with a woman in the same way that she was with Eugene. However, an uncomfortable voice within her whispered that it still was—and that she was starting to feel something other than the wish for friendship.

* * *

_**Scarlet Letters**_

The next day, Eugene was busy once again with something by mid-morning, locked away in his private office. Rapunzel was instructed by her parents to continue to entertain their guest, since—according to them—"the young lady had enjoyed her company yesterday very much." Rapunzel was partly happy with this request, since she _did _want to spend more time with her new friend, but at the same time, she felt a sense of anxiety and anticipation. Something was going to happen; she knew it.

Merida seemed to share the sense of expectation. The women's camaraderie was subtly different from that of the day before. There was an unresolved tension underlying it from the moment they met eyes with each other that morning, and conversation between them was stilted until after lunch. But once they were alone in a little side parlor, and Rapunzel explained reluctantly that they couldn't go for another ride like they had done yesterday, Merida opened up.

"He said _what?"_ she exclaimed in blatant outrage. Her face seemed to turn crimson immediately, and her eyes flashed with anger.

Rapunzel looked unhappily at her. "He said not to go on the mainland again. He's worried that something will happen to you and it will cause a diplomatic nightmare for this country."

Merida looked indignant. "I can take care of myself and so can you! I can shoot an arrow through a bird's eye at a hundred yards! I bet _he _can't boast of that."

"You're right. He can't," Rapunzel said shortly.

"Besides, diplomacy doesn't work that way. Accidents do happen. There would only be a diplomatic problem if something happened to me in the castle... eating food that made me sick, or slipping on soap that the maids hadn't cleaned up and breaking my neck, or something like that! Rapunzel," she continued, leaning in in deep concern, "I think he just doesn't want you to do anything unless he has a part in it."

"So do I," Rapunzel said, her eyebrows narrowing at this representation of it. It was plain to her by now that Merida had a quick mind and an equally quick temper, as well as an impulsive nature and tendency to jump to conclusions. However, since she had already arrived at the same conclusion herself, Merida's sharp, acute anger only served to amplify the low simmer that she herself felt.

Merida regarded her with a studying gaze. "You know, the dispute I had with my mother... I felt really bad about what happened at first. I accidentally did something to her that was... a big problem... and I wasn't sure if I could figure out how to undo it. But I did, and now that I look back on all of it, I wonder if I would ever have got her to listen to me if I hadn't done this thing to her. I think sometimes you have to seize control over somebody like that before you can negotiate with them."

Rapunzel had no idea what Merida had done to her mother, but she didn't suppose it mattered. Merida's point was clear, and really, wasn't it the exact same point she herself had made yesterday by the pond? _"I want to do something to just stun him, to shock him into paying attention,"_ she had declared.

"But I don't know what I can do," she said. "I don't have control over _anything_, not even..." As she trailed off, it was because something suddenly occurred to her, something that—if possible—angered her even more. She held out her left arm to Merida and roughly pushed the long sleeve of her dress up, displaying a set of bruises of various ages. "Look at this."

Merida's eyes narrowed. She sucked in her breath hard. "Rapunzel, are you telling me that he—"

"He doesn't do it on purpose," Rapunzel explained. "He's never struck me in his life, or done anything like this to... to show power over me in a fight, but he just doesn't think. This one, for example"—she pointed at the newest bruise around her wrist—"this one got there two days ago because he was holding my wrist too tightly and walking down the hallway like he was in a race with somebody. He just does things like that without any consideration for how strong he is or how small I am. He doesn't think about what it feels like to me at all... and in a way, that's almost worse than if he _did _do it on purpose."

Merida's anger had not melted away, far from it, but it had become intermingled with deep sympathy. The sympathy, in fact, was what seemed to be foremost at the moment, as Merida leaned over and gently covered Rapunzel's arm with her long sleeve again.

"And you have had no one but him and your parents?"

"Not really," Rapunzel admitted. "There are these ruffians that we met on our very first trip together, but they're all men and they're kind of... one-sided about certain things. They're not good for giving advice. I haven't had a female friend... and as for my parents, I haven't really had _them_ in certain ways. There's love, don't take that the wrong way," she said hurriedly, "but it's not warm. I haven't had anybody I could count as a close friend except for him."

Merida slid out of her chair and went the short distance to Rapunzel's. At once she enveloped the unhappy woman in a warm hug, laying her ruddy head down upon Rapunzel's shoulder. The frizzy, unruly mane of big hair tickled Rapunzel's face, and she realized now that it smelled of outdoors, of wind and trees. Warmth flooded her entire body in waves, and she couldn't help but put her arms around Merida and squeeze her right back.

"I'm so sorry," Merida said softly, warm breath tickling Rapunzel's ear. "I'm so, _so_ sorry." She continued to hug Rapunzel and squeeze her around her waist.

Rapunzel was not sure what was going on inside herself. This hug, this physical contact, the young woman's breath near her earlobe, all made her want to kiss Merida, and not just a peck on the cheek. She also found herself wishing for more skin-on-skin contact, a _lot _more, just as she did with Eugene. Her own body, she knew, was very sensual; he had taught her all about that, at least as far as she hadn't explored already in the privacy of the tower. It only made sense that another woman would have the same capacity, and she kind of wanted to find out.

Was it normal for women to feel this way about their friends? The women she had observed over the past three years didn't seem to act this way among their female friends, but then, Rapunzel supposed she couldn't know what they might behave like in private. She did know that she hadn't read anything about it in novels that featured women's friendships. However, she supposed there were probably still a lot of things she didn't know. Rapunzel tried to push the thoughts out of her mind that were now forming rapidly and chaotically. She didn't even know _what _she wanted. Her ideas were indistinct and unformed, the only one of any clarity being the desire for touch. But what should follow afterward?

Well, in the past, when she had been intensely curious about something but had no idea what to do after, she had brushed aside the concern and acted on instinct. So that was what she did now. She drew back just an inch and hesitantly, as if testing the waters, placed a soft kiss on Merida's cheek.

The young woman drew away in surprise, her blue eyes widening. "Rapunzel?" she asked.

Rapunzel winced, sure that she had made a mistake. "I'm sorry!" she exclaimed. "I thought you..." She looked down, unable to meet those blue eyes with hers.

But Merida seemed to understand now. _"Oh,"_ she said, her cheeks flushing pink and the corners of her mouth turning upward a little. "You were right, though." And at that, she grabbed Rapunzel's face in her hands and planted her lips squarely against Rapunzel's.

Now it was _her _turn to be shocked. She had definitely never seen a woman kiss another woman like this. But this was interesting and rather pleasant. It was the beginning of the physical contact she had been wanting, and she wanted to continue. So she did.

For all her confidence in initiating this, Merida's technique was awkward, Rapunzel noticed at once—awkward and very inexperienced, at least compared to what she had been used to for three years. Merida didn't seem to know quite how to move her lips. She was staying in the same place. Rapunzel wondered if she had ever kissed anyone like this before, and she realized that the answer was probably no. The uncomfortable thought crossed her mind that this was very likely what she herself was like three years ago to—

_No,_ she thought. She didn't want to think about Eugene right now.

She broke away and lunged in for a second one. Maybe it was time for _her_ to be a teacher, she thought. Kissing a woman didn't seem to be any different from kissing a man, at least in terms of style. She _was _assuming a more dominant role than she was accustomed to, but that was all right. Wasn't that what she had wanted for a while?

"Oh that's nice," Merida murmured as Rapunzel pulled away, leaving her lips very red.

As they embraced gently, she gazed into Rapunzel's large green eyes with a smile on her face—but only for a second. Rapunzel watched as, inches away, the young noblewoman's expression turned from contentment into absolute terror. And then she felt the violent push of athletic hands against her chest as Merida shoved her away.

"We can't do this! We can't!" Merida exclaimed. She backed away fast, stumbling backwards onto a sofa. "Especially not you!"

But Rapunzel was tired of being told no. She was tired of being denied and shoved into a box. She had been living that way for twenty-one years now. "You know what?" she said recklessly. "Unless you just don't want to, then yes, I _can."_ At that, she flung herself on the couch and wrapped the young woman in her arms again. "I know you have to leave in less than a week," she murmured as she _finally _threaded her fingers into that glorious mane of hair, "but we can write, can't we? We can be friends. I... need that. I need a friend. I don't have anyone else anymore." To her dismay, her voice broke at the end of the confession.

Whatever misgivings that Merida had, she could not push away a person who was so obviously hurting. And it did seem to her that Rapunzel, however surrounded she might be by family, was emotionally isolated. That was something that Merida herself could understand far too well from her own history, and it was a weak spot for her.

"All right," she whispered. "But it has to stop with this."

"It can stop with this... and a little more," Rapunzel said. She leaned in and planted another kiss on her companion's mouth, while her hands swiftly found their way up the bodice of Merida's turquoise dress, caressing curves so very like her own. She loved to feel this sensation herself, so it only was reasonable that another person with a body like hers would enjoy it too. And sure enough, a moan of surprise and pleasure thrummed from the young woman.

Merida was a fast learner, it turned out.

* * *

_**Heated Rage**_

About forty minutes later, any visitor who opened the door to the little parlor would have been treated to the shocking sight of the princess straddling the left thigh of her visitor, her skirts hiked up to her waist as she rubbed rhythmically back and forth with increasing frequency and intensity. At the same time, the Scottish noblewoman was very obviously touching herself, and her own skirts were hiked up indecently high to allow her to do so. The young women occasionally fell into a heated kiss, but at the moment they were each primarily focused on one thing.

Rapunzel, for her part, was by now feeling twinges of guilt over all this. She certainly knew what she was trying to do, and she also knew that she would very likely succeed at it, but somehow, bringing herself to climax with another person seemed far more unfaithful than just kissing, even though they were both still wearing their undergarments. A voice in her mind also whispered that she was using Merida. She tried to ignore these pangs of doubt.

"Rapunzel," Merida gasped as she shuddered from the finale of her own self-pleasure—one that seemed short-lived to the far more experienced Rapunzel (to the extent that she could think about it at all right now), but, she supposed through her own fog, was not bad for a first time while fully clothed.

Merida spoke again as she continued to tremble. "We shouldn't have—" She broke off at that, apparently not wanting to spoil things for Rapunzel.

However, it was too late. Now it couldn't be ignored. "I know," Rapunzel couldn't help but admit, but there was nothing she could do to change that now. She was _there._ And as a cry escaped her, as she collapsed against the soft curves of her friend and companion, as the rush rippled over her body, she suddenly burst into tears.

Merida instinctively embraced Rapunzel, arms wrapping comfortingly around her. She accepted the hug and buried her head in that mane of hair, sobbing into Merida's shoulder, because now that she'd gone this far and done this, she realized that it didn't matter. She had thought, when she took this plunge, that if she did this, it would mean that she was not _his _now... but she realized that she still was. This had always been about him in some way. She certainly wasn't indifferent to him. She didn't hate him, and she didn't even wish she had never married him. She just wished... that things could go back to how they used to be.

_Save what has been lost... bring back what once was mine._

But the healing flower was dead and gone, destroyed by people ignorant of its self-sustaining life and regenerative magic spell. Ignorant, sheeplike people who dissolved it, permanently destroying the unique manifestation of a miracle, all for the sake of two people—one woman and one baby—out of hundreds in the kingdom who had been at death's door at some point. The flower was gone, and so was the power stored in her hair. Yet she still knew that that magic could do nothing to heal the kind of hurt that she had suffered so much over the past three years. That was never its power.

What she had just done with Merida would also do _nothing _toward that end. It wouldn't give her the closeness to her parents that she had never managed to cultivate, and it definitely wouldn't fix her damaged marriage or return her relationship with Eugene to what it had once been. It wouldn't even replace them, either of them. If anything, it was a secret that would weigh on her, contaminate the friendship, and trouble her more and more as time passed, making things even worse.

As realization after wretched realization swamped her, she sobbed harder and felt herself growing physically weak. She wasn't even sure if she could stand up anymore. She just wanted to collapse somewhere, like this other person's shoulder, and cry.

She was so engrossed in her own sobs that she barely heard the soft patter of footsteps outside the parlor and the creak of doorknob hardware.

"_Rapunzel!"_ Merida whispered urgently, shoving her away—

But it was too late. The door swung open, and outside it stood Eugene, treated to the sight of his wife sitting astride another woman's leg with both their skirts hiked up to their hips, the hair of both of them thoroughly mussed, and smeared makeup, including lipstick smudges, glistening on each other's faces. The conclusion to be drawn was obvious and unmistakable, and as Rapunzel gazed at him in sheer frozen horror for a terrible second, she realized that his quick, worldly mind had indeed made the correct conclusion. His eyes narrowed and his facial muscles clenched in unambiguous fury.

"Rapunzel," he finally said, "get up. You're coming with me." His words were icy cold, yet filled with a rage she had never in her life heard from him. She shrank back in fear.

Merida noticed this and responded immediately with the courage that her companion had so coveted. "If you strike her, or harm her in any way, you will answer to me for it," she threatened darkly.

He sneered at her. "What do you take me for?" he said. "Rapunzel, get _up."_

With one hopeless parting glance at Merida, Rapunzel gingerly got to her feet and edged toward Eugene. He grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her out of the room, slamming the door behind him. They began to walk rapidly down the hall, heading for the staircase that led to their private rooms.

She felt her anxiety growing with every step of the way. What was in store for her now? She knew very well that he had grounds to divorce her if he so chose, and that being put away under these circumstances would be a disgrace so deep that it would also cost her her birthright of future succession—not that she honestly cared that much about _that._ But she would be alone, with nowhere to go—_again._ And, she realized with a fearful shake, Merida would be drawn into it too. She had _never _wanted _that._

They reached the top of the stairs and turned down the hallway. When they reached their room, he opened the door, pushed her into their bedroom, and shut the door behind them. She scurried over to the bed and sat down, drawing her legs up close, feeling her entire form shrink into itself.

He stood a few feet away, glaring at her, trying to compose himself as well as he could. Finally, after several minutes of heated, angry breathing, he was able to speak.

"_Well?"_ he snarled. "You have an explanation for that?" His eyes flashed dangerously, and he didn't wait for her to continue before he spoke again. "Did she try to seduce you? Is that what happened?"

Rapunzel had an opening to blame it all on her guest, but she wouldn't do that. "No," she snapped, surprised at the ferocity in her words but not questioning it. "She didn't."

Her defiance only seemed to enrage him further. "So you did that on purpose, did you? You knew what you were doing? Of course you did. I see it in your eyes," he growled. "So much for never, _ever _breaking your damned promises! Why'd you do it, you unfaithful little—" He broke off at this, breathing heavily, stopping himself before he said anything worse.

Rapunzel had suddenly had it. Guilty or not, she was not going to sit on that bed and submit to being lectured and yelled at by him. She got to her feet, and even though her entire body shook, at last she fought back.

"She was giving me much more affection—_real _affection, not just lustful _use _of me—than you have in almost three years!" Rapunzel raged. "She was listening to me and having conversations with me, not talking down to me or talking _at _me or telling me how to do everything! She was spending time with me and enjoying things like riding Maximus and going to the archery range and... things that you _should _like doing with me, and used to, but I guess you decided you were just too much above that when you got your title!"

"You are _not _going to make this about me!" he roared.

"It's _all _about you!" she shouted back. "I realized even before you came in that it was about you! I started crying when I realized it was still about you and it wouldn't really make anything better at all!" At that, the tears that had briefly disappeared in her fear reformed in the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away.

"I'm glad you finally noticed things were wrong," he said sarcastically. "I'm glad that after two and a half years, you picked up on it! You could have asked me any time you wanted to talk about it, but you never did! Instead you decided to cozy up to some woman who's _leaving _in a week and kiss her and pleasure yourself with her, rather than trying to make things better with me!"

"You never cared about listening to _anything _I said! Everything has been about _you_ getting what you wanted!" she exclaimed. "Your castle, your money, you... you wanting to father the heir of the kingdom... and taking my parents from me and... and getting a title... You have _no _idea what a marriage is really supposed to be about!"

"Oh, and I'm going to ask _you_ about it?" he said sarcastically. "You just gave up _any_ right to lecture me about _that!"_

"See, there you go, dismissing me before I even say anything! You aren't interested in fixing things with me unless I shut up, say nothing, and you get everything you want. For a brief period I thought you might have learned how to think about the feelings of others, but I guess I was wrong!" She strode forward, stopping inches away from him, and glared into his eyes. "You know something, Eugene? Even though I know it wouldn't make anything better, I would still go back down there and do the same things with her if I had the chance. And you know why? Because this is the first time since we were married that you showed any real emotion toward me! You've bossed me around, you've taken over my duties, you've seen as little of me as you can, but _now _I've got your attention!"

"Oh, is that it? That's what it was about? Did she know you were only using her as a way to get at me?" Eugene snarled. "Or did you lie to her too?"

"I told you already, I only realized that at the _end!_ She has been really nice to me since she arrived, which is a lot more than I can say about you! I guess _you'll_ stop taking me for granted only when you feel threatened about whether you'll still have me for yourself!"

He glared down at her. "Rapunzel," he growled, "I will _always _have you for myself." He grabbed her shoulders aggressively and pushed her down on the bed. "And I'm going to prove that right now." He climbed on top of her and pushed her onto her back.

She put her hands against his chest angrily. "You get off me," she snapped.

"_No."_

He leaned down and gave her a rough, angry kiss with a bite sharp enough to draw blood on her lips. She winced at the pain and the throbbing bruise that followed immediately, but she couldn't help but lick up the drop of blood that he brought out.

Nor could she help but let him continue, in increasingly aggressive, possessive, and territorial motions, to reassert his rights and his claim. In a way, she wanted him to.

* * *

_**Hearts and Diamonds**_

Eugene literally did not let her out of his sight for the rest of the day, but they did not speak much. They definitely did not reopen the subject of their damaged relationship. Instead they merely remained in the same room, reading or pretending to read. He informed her that he would not tell anyone about what he had discovered. Cynically, Rapunzel wondered that night if he only decided that because he knew perfectly well that divorcing her would strip him of his title and honors. She didn't ask him, because she also knew it would not help anything.

Merida left the very next day, seizing upon the chance boon of a letter from her mother that arrived at the Corona castle that morning and claiming that it contained an urgent plea for her return home. Her hosts were deeply distressed, but they wished her a good journey. The king and queen expressed their hope that all was well, or would be. Rapunzel and Eugene both knew that the "urgent business" in the letter was a fib but put on good fronts.

She did not promise to write. Maybe it was because she knew that any such letters would either not make it into Rapunzel's hands at all, or they would not be private, but this loss was particularly saddening to Rapunzel. She recalled her wretched realization that this very thing would happen—that she would contaminate the friendship by trying to make it a replacement in every way for what had gone sour. It was actually worse than that; it appeared that she wouldn't even _have_ the friendship.

For a week after that, she and Eugene still barely spoke. She supposed that on some level, it was an improvement over the kind of "talking" that they'd been having for so long, but it still left her feeling empty and alone. Most days she would find small closets, tiny little-used rooms, and—if all else failed—storage lofts to curl up in a ball, put her head between her knees, and just cry until she had no more tears.

Finally, a week after _that day, _she was wandering the castle grounds by herself, gazing upon every shrub and tree as if it had something to tell her. She had just about resigned herself to the idea that she would not ever be very close to her parents, she would not get Eugene back, and she would have to content herself with emotional solitude—at least until she gave in to what she knew was inevitable and bore him a child someday. She knew she would be able to love and bond with her children, at least.

Making the rounds of the trails, she passed by an evergreen so old and venerable that it no longer stood straight upright, but seemed to slump from the magnitude of its own vast, gnarled trunk and branches. It was a kind-looking tree, if such a thing were possible—a comforting and familiar presence. She stopped, got off the well-traveled trail, and sat down under the tree. Suddenly, and to her absolute dismay, the urge to start crying came over her once more.

_I can't do this. I could be found here,_ she thought, but this thought could not stop the tears from streaming down her cheeks. Embarrassed, she bent her head over her knees and tried to hide her eyes from anyone who might happen to pass by. Her tears started to drop from her face and spatter the ground.

_Does this happen to everyone? Is this what happens inevitably to love?_ she thought miserably. _Something happens in life that changes one person, and the other can't cope with it, so they grow apart? Do people stay together for years and years only because they're used to each other, not because they actually feel anything anymore?_

Dark splotches continued to cover the ground as her tears fell from her face.

_But I do feel something,_ she thought miserably. _I do care. That's why it hurts so much. It would be easier if I didn't._

Her nose had grown stuffy from leaning her head over, so she raised it for a moment and fished a handkerchief out of her little purse to blow her nose. The noise kept her from hearing the approach of brisk footsteps until they were upon her—and then she felt a hand on her shoulder, a person bracing his weight against her as he sat down.

Startled and suddenly anxious, she turned around with a sniffle and saw Eugene sitting next to her, looking at her with—_surely not_—sympathy and... consideration?

She hid her face behind the handkerchief, wiping her eyes dry and blowing her nose again, but more importantly, buying a few seconds of time before she had to face him. She slowly slid the cloth away from her face, taking a breath and trying to gather up her courage. She had no idea how to start a conversation with him. What could she say? It was ridiculous to bring up the weather or any other cliché conversation opener for awkward moments.

However, she did not have to after all. When she saw his lips part the very next second, she instantly felt a wave of relief wash over her. She did not even care what he might say, as long as she did not have the uncomfortable task.

He turned to her gamely, eyes hopeful and inviting, and spoke.

"Could we have that talk after all?"


End file.
